I came home from a work trip and my 7-year-old son said, “”don’t go into my room”” — of course I did.
I had been away for four days.
Long enough to MISS my son’s bedtime stories.
Long enough to start feeling guilty every time he asked, “”When are you coming home, Mom?””
So when my flight landed early, I decided not to tell anyone.
I wanted to SURPRISE seven-year-old Bennett.
Instead…
he surprised me.
The front door flew open before I even reached for my keys.
Bennett wrapped his arms around my waist so tightly I could barely breathe.
For a second, everything felt normal.
Then he looked up at me.
His smile faded.
“”Mom…””
His voice trembled.
“”Please don’t go into my room.””
I laughed, assuming he’d made a mess while I was away.
“”WHAT HAPPENED? Did you draw on the walls again?””
He shook his head so hard that tears filled his eyes.
“”No.””
“”Then what is it?””
He glanced nervously toward the hallway.
“”I promised I wouldn’t LET anyone in.””
I frowned.
“”Promised WHO?””
He didn’t answer.
My sister Lauren had been staying with him while I was away.
When I called her name, no one replied.
The house felt strangely QUIET.
Too quiet.
I checked the kitchen.
Empty.
The backyard.
Empty.
Lauren’s car was still parked in the driveway.
My pulse quickened.
